


Opposition

by justbygrace



Series: Movie 'Verse [5]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, movie verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 21:18:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8549455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbygrace/pseuds/justbygrace
Summary: Doctor/Rose as the Station Inspector and Florist from 'Hugo'





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt fic I wrote ages ago

It was the orphanage that convinced him he was a worthless member of society, but it was the war that really hammered the point home with a bullet to his leg and a metal brace that was the only thing that kept him walking. If he really closed his eyes and thought about it, he could remember a time when he wasn't a bitter and disillusioned man with a grudge against the world, but it was an exercise in futility because this was who he was now and it was unlikely to change.

The sole thing that kept him from drinking himself into oblivion was his role as the feared Station Master at King's Cross along with his trusty Doberman TARDIS, roaming the great halls and passages and keeping a sharp lookout for thieves, beggars, and orphans. His leg kept him from really giving chase, but TARDIS was as faithful a hound as there ever was and she was brilliant at cornering the little varmints.

There was one particular brat that really grated on his nerves. The kid was undoubtedly an orphan (and he knew all the signs), but he was a slippery little devil, frequently giving TARDIS the slip and often seeming to escape into thin air. He knew there was something not quite right about him, but so far he had been unable to determine exactly what it was.

The only bright spot in his days (even throwing the little brats into the care of the orphan keeper only brought a momentary high) was the Florist. She was beautiful and gorgeous and stunning with a kind smile for everyone and absolutely unattainable, even if he could string enough words together to speak to her, which he never could. The few occasions when he thought he might be able to gather his courage, his damned leg froze up with a hearty squeak forcing him to abandon any notions of romance.

The bakery shop lady, a redhead with an indomitable spirit and a matching temper, eventually grew tired of his pining around after the Florist and flat out demanded that he go speak with her. He hemmed and hawed, but eventually gave in. It didn't go too terribly at first. He was able to produce actual words that somehow turned into sentences that were understandable by the golden haired goddess.

She was as perfect up close as she had been from afar and if he believed in heaven, he would have thought he had died without being aware of it. And then his leg froze because his luck never lasted longer than three minutes at a time and he would have run from that spot never to return if he could have, but instead he gritted his teeth and told her about the war and how he was never going to be able to walk on his own, fully expecting her to turn away and leave as everyone else always did.

Ever perfect, ever beautiful, ever amazing, she laid a comforting hand on his shoulder (and oh, how long it had been since he had felt human contact like that) and said her father had been killed in the war. And then she took a flower and tucked it into his jacket and he walked away feeling like the Lord of all Time and Space.

After that he tried to speak to her every day which sometimes worked and sometimes didn't because his courage was fickle and occasionally deserted him at the last second leaving him ducking around corners or behind potted plants. If she saw his hasty getaways she never said a word and he loved her all the more for it.

Eventually things with the little orphan brat came to a head and it turned out that he was actually a resident of King's Cross who almost got his fool self run over by a train because he was stupid enough to leap on the tracks after some clockwork toy. He had never been so scared in his life - not even when he himself had been injured - and jumped onto the tracks after the kid. After that it was a blur of motion and noise and people yelling and the Florist was there because of course she was and it turned out the kid was somehow special to someone who had once been rich and famous.

He embarrassed himself in front of the Florist to the point where he wished the floor would open up and swallow him in, but she was perfection incarnate and she grabbed his hand, pulling him away, accepting him for who and what he was. And being the amazing person she was, she refused to let go of his hand, teaching him what he could be and helping him to become someone new.


End file.
